Keeping Busy
by Aromene
Summary: What did the hobbits do to amuse themselves in Rivendell before the Quest?
1. Falling

**Disclaimer: No, don't own them. Any of them.**

**AN: I should be studying for the final I have in four days, but somehow writing about hobbits getting up to trouble is far more interesting than learning about the Etruscans, who were all crazy anyways. How fun is that? Also, I just finished an exam, so I'm feeling that I deserve a bit of time to play.**

**Summary: The Company stayed in Rivendell for two months before the Quest began. Exactly how much mischief can two curious hobbits get up to in a valley of Elves? Unfortunately, Elrond is about to find out.**

* * *

"Merry, I'm bored." Peregrin Took, heir to the Thain of the Shire, was curled up in a chair in one corner of the vast library that served as Elrond's study.

His cousin and best friend Meriadoc Brandybuck ignored him. Pippin might have been bored, but Merry was fascinated. Elrond, with the closest thing to a smile Merry had yet seen on his face, had kindly showed the two hobbits where the maps were kept. Merry hadn't looked up in nearly an hour, and understandably, Pippin was beginning to feel a little put out that he was being ignored. And for a bunch of _maps_ no less!

"_Mer-ry_," this time it was more a whine than anything. Merry gave his cousin a thoroughly annoyed look.

"Look Pip, you might find that stuff like this," and he gestured towards the table in front of him, ever inch of which was covered with maps so old Merry couldn't even fathom a guess, "will come in handy one day. So why don't you at least attempt to find this interesting, at least for bit longer. It's nearly elevensies, and we can take a break then."

Pippin didn't look too impressed. "And then can we do something fun?"

Merry seemed to pause over the word 'fun'. He had known Pippin since the tweenager had been born, and had learned a long time before that fun and Pippin equaled trouble. Trouble wasn't exactly a good thing for Pippin to be getting involved in. What would the elves think?

Merry sighed. "Oh, alright Pip. Let me finish looking at this one, and then we'll go down to the kitchens and find something to eat, and _then_ we'll find something for you to do."

Merry turned back to the map he held in front of him, with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was unfortunately going to live to regret what he had just said.

* * *

Elrond was not having a good day. All things considered, anyone would be having a bad day if their home had been invaded by every free race in Middle-earth, and every single one of those races had a variety of different demands.

The ale, what little there had been that Elrond kept in his cellars for the benefit of the visiting Dúnedain, was gone already. The dwarves were already beginning to grumble about the lack of drink and the…._blandness_ of the food. He had weeks, maybe even months more of this to look forward to.

And the head cook had just departed to return to his kitchens, completely unimpressed that Elrond was not going to tell the hobbits they couldn't eat six square meals a day. He could hardly starve his guests, and although missing a meal or two wouldn't harm them in any way, Elrond well knew that these particular hobbits would consider it no less than torture.

Of course, Erestor wasn't being much of a help either. The last time Elrond had seen the councilor he had been headed to the stables muttering complaints about how much of a mess a person the size of a five-year-old elfling could cause. Elrond had to feel at least a little sympathy. It was likely Erestor had found the aftermath in the library left by Merry and Pippin. Elrond was at least partly at fault, but he had assumed Merry was responsible enough to return the maps to where he had found them. Apparently not. It was unlikely Erestor would return until most of the guests had gone to their rest. He liked order more than even the average elf, and there had been no order in the Valley for over a week.

Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose. His human heritage did not often fail him, but it did leave him prone to headaches, when the situation called for it. His temples began to pound in time with his heartbeat, and he let out a groan very unbecoming of an Elven Lord.

And the rest, well, they were traitors, the lot of them. Elladan and Elrohir he had sent off on an important mission, but Estel had asked to leave himself, and Elrond had granted permission, despite his better judgment. But Glorfindel had disappeared two days earlier, and though Elrond was certain his friend had simply escaped with the last border patrol, the Lord of Rivendell was a bit put out that his seneschal had abandoned him without a word of apology.

No, they had all left him to deal with this alone. Even Arwen seemed to be nowhere to be found, which he was rather unsurprised at, but all the same, it was rather shameful to be abandoned by one's councilors and family at the same time.

Especially with a house full of uninvited guests.

Sometimes Elrond briefly wondered whether his brother hadn't been the smarter one. The Halls of Men must be infinitely better than this.

At least it was quiet, he mused. It seemed everyone was keeping outside the house today, enjoying the sunny weather. He supposed he should be grateful for small miracles.

_Crash._

Well, there went the silence too. Elrond was on his feet instantly, which only served to increase the pounding in his head. The sound had come from the gardens outside the main rooms. Fearing the worst he ran in that direction as gracefully as only an elf could.

* * *

"Pippin, you are aware this wasn't the best of your ideas?"

"Yes, Merry."

"As long as you admit it." Merry glanced up into the tree that had held Pippin in its branches only moments before. Pippin had always had an unusual interested in climbing trees, and a penchant for falling out of them. But the Shire trees were not overly large. Pippin had thought trying to climb one of the huge elven trees would be an adventure.

Merry glanced at his cousin, and had to admit, that it would have been a good idea if it had worked. But then, Pippin's ideas rarely worked the way they were supposed to. He glanced around, and realized there was a bit of a crowd gathering. A group of dwarves stood off to one side, glancing their way and conversing in hushed voices. There were a few elves too, who had been passing by at the time, or were looking out from the balconies of the house. Merry turned around to see if there was anyone else, and came face to face, or rather face to thighs, with the Lord of Rivendell.

He resisted the urge to gulp. "It was an accident, I swear."

Elrond looked down at him briefly and then moved over to where Pippin was lying at the base of the tree. "I am certain it was, but be that as it may, it was still a very bad idea. What have you done to yourself Master Peregrin?"

Pippin looked terrified. "I…I'm…fine."

"I doubt that." Elrond glanced upwards to the tree above them. "Estel fell out of this tree and broke his leg when he was eight. It was not the first time this tree 'caused' an accident, and I doubt this time will be the last. Let's see if you've broken anything as well."

A brief examination proved that yes, he had, but it was thankfully only his wrist. Besides a few bumps and bruises he would likely be up and about the next day. _Unfortunately_, Merry thought.

Elrond gathered Pippin up into his arms, mindful of the broken bone, and motioned Merry to follow him into the house.

* * *

"You will return to your rooms Master Hobbit and you will not leave them until the morrow. And if I catch you with that arm out of its sling before I say otherwise, you will not find the consequences at all pleasant. Am I perfectly understood?"

The change from kind healer to intimidating Elven Lord shocked the hobbit into silence. Pippin gulped, and managed to nod. He had no allusions that Elrond would not carry through with such a threat.

"Good. Off with the both of you then. Master Meriadoc, if you would please keep your young cousin out of trouble and in his bed, I would be grateful. I will make certain that meals are sent to your room. And I will look in on you Peregrin before the evening meal." The hobbits took that as a good cue to leave as quickly as possible. But they only made it to the door before Elrond's voice stopped them again.

"And no climbing any more trees!"

Merry grabbed Pippin's good arm and practically dragged the tweenager from the room. He did not stop until they were safe in their only bedroom. Shutting the door firmly behind him, Merry allowed himself a sigh of relief.

They had got off lightly, of that he was sure. He told himself he had would have to remember to asked Strider if he had been punished for falling out of the tree too.

"Bed, Pippin. Now." It was a mark of how terrified of the consequences Pippin was that he climbed up onto the large bed without a word of protest. He sat back against the pillows, looking quite small against the enormously carved headboard. Merry felt a little guilty for his abrupt behavior.

"How are you feeling Pip? Does your wrist hurt?" He came and climbed up onto the bed himself and settled down next to the tween.

"No. That tea Elrond gave me tasted awful, but it worked well. It doesn't hurt at all anymore." He moved his arm to prove the point.

"That's good."

There was silence, except for the chirping of birds outside their window.

"Merry?"

"Yes, Pip?" Merry said, and turned to look at his cousin.

"I'm bored."

Merry sighed in defeat.


	2. Wonders

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**AN: In true hobbit fashion…:stops:ponders:shrugs:…here is my present to all of you on this, my birthday. Please enjoy.**

**Summary: Sam has a special encounter in Rivendell and gains some insight into the Eldar. Guest staring Bill the Pony and Asfaloth.

* * *

**

Sam was still amazed by it all. It was so much more than any hobbit could dream of, and yet, he'd done exactly that. Wondering, time and again, what it would be like to meet elves, to see where they lived. But he had never imagined this.

They had been there a week already, and yet Sam knew he had seen only a small fraction of the whole city that was Rivendell. Masters Merry and Pippin and been out to explore almost as soon as they knew Frodo would recover. But Sam had been loath to leave his Master's side. Frodo was steal weak and tired, and might need him at any time. So Sam had spent that last few days since the Council trailing after Frodo and Bilbo as they wandered through the gardens and listening to Bilbo regal them with tales of life in Rivendell. So Sam thought he knew rather a lot about this wondrous place, but he hadn't actually encountered much of it.

The elves, for the most part, seem to ignore them. He supposed they were used to having Bilbo around, and realized that hobbits were quite content to be left to their own devices.

But that rather left Sam with a problem. Frodo had awoken that morning and decided over breakfast that Sam needed to spend some time by himself, and that he would be quite alright to spend the day alone with Bilbo without a shadow. Merry and Pippin had scrambled off before Sam had even finished eating, and so left to himself with no one to talk to in a strange place, Sam did the only logical thing.

He went to visit his dear friend Bill.

It wasn't difficult to find the stables. All he had to do was ask the first elf he passed the right direction, and the elf kindly showed him to the right door that lead across the courtyard to the stables that housed the elves' horses.

The building seemed to be deserted, so Sam took a bit of time to wander down the rows of stalls admiring the beautiful mares and stallions the elves kept. Some of them were the blackest black Sam had ever seen, for ponies of the Shire tending to be varying shades of brown. At the very far end he found Bill.

The pony whickered a greeting and tried to reach his head over the stall door, but he was much to short to manage. Smiling, Sam reached up and managed to unbolt the lock so he could slip inside and greet Bill properly. He had swiped a few apples from breakfast, and Bill eagerly devoured this wonderful treat.

Sam glanced around and happily noted that the pony seemed to be well looked after. There was plenty of fresh hay, and the feed trough had obviously been filled that morning. Bill was practically glowing from good care and treatment and a well deserved rest.

"Well, boy, we've come a long way, and no mistake. Hardly believe we made it, myself. Doesn't look to be over yet, either. Mr. Frodo says we must go on, my dear, so go we will. Don't suppose they'll let me take you with us? Be an awful long way for a pony to go." He paused and reached up to stroke Bill's mane. "Awful long way for a hobbit too," he added.

Voices at the stable entrance caught his attention and Sam peered out around the stall door. It was hard too see; the stable was dim, and the sunlight streaming in from the door was very bright, backlighting everything in front of it. But Sam could just make out two figures standing at the door. Just then one of them disappeared, and the other began to make their way down the rows of stalls, getting closer and closer to Sam.

He had no idea what made him do it, but suddenly hiding sounded like the best thing to do. Quickly he pulled the stall door fully closed; thankful it made no sound, and crept into the shadows nearby. Bill looked at him with an expression that clearly read 'I don't understand two-leggers' and turn back to munching a mouthful of feed.

Sam could only barely make out soft footfalls. It was an elf of course, and they walked silently, but hobbits could walk silently too, and Sam's hearing was better than most. The figure paused in the stall across from Bill's, and Sam heard a whicker of greeting from the horse within.

A stream of incomprehensible, but beautiful, elvish followed, and Sam's breath caught. Why did they sound like they were singing all the time, even when they were saying the most plain and simple things? It was a wonder, to be sure.

He heard the door being opened to the stall, and the sounds of the horse inside being led out. Bill had lost interest in his food, and was now trying to crane his neck over the stall door once more, making soft grunts towards the other animal.

Sam's curiosity got the better of him. He scrambled up onto a wooden crate that was sitting just inside Bill's stall, and leaned around to see over the door. He could make it, but just barely.

And there was the wondrous white horse that Mr. Frodo had ridden, and the golden-haired elf that he belonged to. The elf was taking down the reigns from a hook nearby. Just then, as the elf's attention was diverged towards the tack, the horse, who's name Sam couldn't rightly recall, but he was certain it started with an 'a', turned towards Bill and snorted. The elf turned around to see what had caused it, and smiled as he saw Bill trying to poke his head over the boards that restrained him. And then the elf's sharp eyes settled on Sam's, just visible in the gloom of the barn.

"Well, well, Master Samwise. What brings you here?"

Sam gave a startled cry of surprised and disappeared from view. A moment later he was pushing the stall door open, and peeking out.

"So—sorry sir. I was just visiting Bill, was all. Thought he might be…lonely. Didn't mean to bother! I'll be going!" Sam pushed the door shut quickly and reached to secure the lock. But that was as far as he got.

"You need not be afraid of me Samwise. And you are free to come and go as you please, as Elrond, I know, has told you. I was just going to take Asfaloth out for a run. Would you care to come?"

This was too much for dear Sam. He stood there, staring up at the elven lord, and gapped.

Glorfindel smiled kindly, and resumed arraying his horse. As he tied the last strap he turned back to Sam once more and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Well, Master Samwise? I am offering a chance not many get, besides your Master and a few others."

Sam gulped, and then plucked up his courage…what little of it there was. "Oh yes, sir, right, sir! Be honoured, sir!"

"Good. Up you go, Master Hobbit," the elf said and reached down to lift Sam with ease up onto the white horse's back. Asfaloth seemed not at all bothered by a strange rider, and Sam repeated to himself again and again that this horse had born Frodo to safety.

Glorfindel tugged on the reigns and Asfaloth eagerly followed him down the stalls to the door. Once through, Glorfindel saluted the elf that stood waiting outside; the one Sam realized he had saw earlier, and mounted in once graceful leap. Sam clutched at the mane in front of him with a death grip.

"He will not let you fall, and either will I, I assure you, Samwise."

"Yes, sir," he replied, but didn't sound all that convinced. Sam was rather fond of having two feet firmly on the ground.

But very soon, as Asfaloth cleared the courtyard to the dirt paths beyond and found his stride, Sam forgot about being afraid. It was wonderful to be moving so fast, and yet not feel like he was moving at all.

Asfaloth gave a neigh of joy at being able to run free, and Glorfindel responded with a laugh of equal joy.

And Sam realized that maybe these elves weren't so different from hobbits after all. They enjoyed the shear pleasure of life and the world that was around them.

It was something to think about, at least: later.


	3. Climbing

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, do you think I'd be writing fanfic?**

**AN: Part the Third this is. And probably the last one, unless inspiration suddenly strikes, which lately it hasn't. We shall see.**

**Summary: When Bilbo shows Frodo his favourite place in Rivendell, the Ringbearer discovers something Bilbo never told him about the Elves.**

"Just a bit further, Frodo my lad," Bilbo said, as he paused to take a breath. Was the slope really this steep?

It had been a few days since the council, and with each passing minute Frodo had grown more despondent. He was worrying about what was to come; Bilbo could tell. He had decided to take Frodo up to the falls, to his favourite place, where they might have some privacy to talk.

But it was a bit of a walk, especially for Bilbo, and even for Frodo who was still recovering. Erestor had kindly offered to accompany them for a few hours, though Bilbo noticed the pile of papers that the advisor was carrying with him. The elf would not be good company with work to do.

"It's right up there," Bilbo pointed just above and to the right of them. And indeed, through the waving trees Frodo could see the glint of sunlight on falling water. Not yet tired, Frodo hurried forward.

Some yéni earlier a rock fall had opened up a new water course down the north cliffs above Rivendell. A new waterfall had therefore been created; narrow and high, it was one of the most beautiful in the valley. The water tumbled down from fifty feet into a small pool; all the water had succeeded in carving out in so short a time.

Frodo reached his hand forward to feel the ice-cold spray. It was the coldest water he had ever felt. "It's like ice, Uncle, only it's not frozen."

"It never freezes. The force of the water running down the mountain and over the cliffs is too great. It is always icy-cold, but ever flowing," Erestor explained. He had turned back to help Bilbo over the last few feet of rocky ground to the site of the pool.

"It's so beautiful, Bilbo! Thank you for bringing me here."

"You're quite welcome, lad."

Bilbo laid out a blanket he had brought, and Frodo set the basket containing elevensies on it. The two made themselves as comfortable as they could on the covered rocks, but Erestor settled on a bolder nearby and immediately engrossed himself in paperwork.

Bilbo smiled, "I'm afraid Erestor's books are often more talkative then Erestor."

Frodo watched the dark-haired councilor raise an eyebrow, but otherwise make no indication that he had heard. Frodo smiled back.

"Would you like something to eat, Uncle?" Frodo was already reaching for the basket.

"No, no; help yourself. I'm fine for the moment."

Once Frodo had satisfied his immediate hunger pangs, he settled himself more comfortably on the rather hard ground.

"This is such an amazing place, Bilbo! I never dreamed of such, even in my wildest imaginings."

"Oh, yes; it is quite something, is it not? Took me a while to get used to the way of things around here. It wasn't at all like I imagined either. And living with elves is a mite different then staying as a guest for a few days. But they've all been very kind. Even Lord Erestor."

Another eyebrow went up, but still no other reaction. Bilbo looked a bit put-out that he hadn't antagonized the advisor a bit more. The paperwork must be particularly interesting.

"You see, my boy, elves are about as queer a lot as you can find. And I've met a fair number of peoples, as you know. Some elves are very merry and are always singing and dancing around like it's the Spring Fair everyday and not a touch of sorrow to be had. And others, like the Lords Elrond and Glorfindel, and Erestor here, are a different sort. They are much more like 'proper' elf-lords. But they can have their moments too! Why Erestor and Glorfindel often act just like young Merry and Pippin. And Elrond's sons; you met them yesterday, can be the merriest and silliest of all. They still act like tweens, according to Elrond!"

"You may be correct about the twins," Erestor's voice broke in, "but I would thank you not to compare two such distinguished elven lords such as Glorfindel and myself to rascals like those cousins of yours. We are no such thing."

At that Bilbo's eyebrows rose to impossible heights as he adopted a look of absolute disbelief.

Erestor looked amused. "Why, I can tell you tales about the twins that would make young Meriadoc and Peregrin look like the epitome of innocence."

"Now Erestor –" Bilbo began, but got no further.

"Would you?" Frodo asked.

Looking even more amused, Erestor set his paperwork aside and moved closer to the hobbits.

"Certainly. Ah, not there was this one catastrophe not too many years ago, when Aragorn was but a young boy…"

Bilbo proceeded to shake his head as the councilor launched into a tale that would have given Merry and Pippin a few ideas of their own.

If Elladan and Elrohir wondered why Frodo spent all of the evening meal staring at them with a look of mingled amusement and disbelief on his face, they decided it would be better not to ask.


End file.
